Train of Thought
by Bekki
Summary: When the Goa'uld are away, SG1 can play! A series of drabbles chronicling the obscurities of the life and times of our favourite heroes. Chapter 4: The miracle cure for boredom
1. Someone Axed the Program

**Train of Thought  
**

summary: A compilation of unrelated and humorous drabbles

disclaimer: I do not own Stargate or its characters. I just borrow and play

A/N: Please review! One short click and a few short words make this short chick mighty glad!

**Part 1: Someone Axed The Program**

There was a knock at the door. Jack O'Neill sighed. If that was another scientist wanting his opinion on the importance of whatever piece of dirt from P3X blah-blah-blah, he might just have to show them the importance of wearing bullet-proof vests on base. As if he didn't have enough to deal with right now.

Just as he was about to throw his plastic Bart Simpson figurine at the door and holler something rude, a small, yet confident voice asked permission to enter. His anger subsided somewhat. Sure, it was a scientist at the door, a geeky one at that, but also his 2IC, his great friend and occasionally his accidental cause for staring, Samantha Carter.

"Enter," he barked. Carter or no Carter, nothing was putting a dampener on his current foul mood.

Carter tiptoed into her CO's office, urging her body to produce waves of serenity and peace. It seemed someone was in the middle of a tantrum, and she had no desire to make it any worse. As she stepped towards the general, she took a mental note of his posture, hunched and tense. Yes, something was definitely up.

Jack looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was treading so carefully, anyone would think she was worried of falling through the floor. He rolled his eyes. Surely his mood wasn't that obvious. Quite frankly, he didn't care. Just to prove it to himself, he threw his Bart figurine half-heartedly at the wall. It barely caused a thump.

"Something up, Sir?" Carter asked, taking the hurled doll as a cue to talk.

"They've cancelled the program," he said, swivelling his chair to face her.

"What?" Carter asked. She hurried over to the general's desk and sat in the chair opposite him. "When? Why?"

Jack shrugged. "It's beyond me. Apparently there's not enough support." He slumped back down into his seat. Carter's obvious concern made him lighten up a little, but no-one's sympathy was going to bring him out of this one. He felt a tantrum coming on and was in no hurry to stop it.

"How can there not be enough support?" Carter, asked, seeming to take the blow quite personally. "It's been, what…eight years? What happened?"

Jack was about to correct her miscalculation of the years but thought better of it. It didn't matter that Carter had no idea how long the program had been running, though why she didn't know was beyond him. It did matter however, that she was as startled and dismayed as he was, something he was sure would never be the case.

"I don't know what happened, Carter," he answered. "But apparently, the good people of the known world don't feel it to be a necessity anymore."

"Politicians", she groaned.

"You think it was them?" he asked, curiously.

"Of course sir, why wouldn't it be?"

Jack had to think about this for a second. Yes, it did seem to fit. Politicians always had a way of screwing with everything Jack O'Neill held dear.

"So, what are we going to do about it, sir?" Carter asked, looking half-hopeful, half-scared.

"We?" Jack asked back. Was she crazy? "What on earth can we do about it?"

Sam shrugged. "What we always do, sir. Show them we're made of tougher stuff than that." She nodded in agreement with herself. She was surely getting fired up about this.

"And do what, exactly?" Jack asked. He had never known his 2IC to want to cause such a scene and was a little worried that she was so serious about this. Hell, even he wasn't that concerned.

"We'll go to the president directly," she said. "Take all the politics out of it. We'll go straight to the top and demand him to reconsider."

"Ya know, Carter, I'm not sure it's really his decision," Jack cautioned.

"The hell it isn't!" Carter yelled. Jack gave her a look that she usually took to mean 'back off' and cleared her throat nervously. "Honestly sir, I can't believe you're so nonchalant about this."

"I wouldn't exactly call it life threatening, Carter."

"Are you serious?" she asked. She got another look from her CO. "…sir," she added, belatedly. "What is the world going to do? Nothing?"

"Well, it frees my time up a bit. More fishing," he suggested, beginning to wonder if something alien had infested Carter and was making her even more serious than usual.

"Sir, if this is an issue of support…"

"Support? No. I mean, no one wants to see it all end, least of all me."

"Then what's the problem? Just take your case to the president. We've done worse."

"Er, slightly different circumstances, Carter. There's no Apophis in this picture…or direct link to Earth's demise…" he added as an after thought.

Carter stared at him, a vision of determination. He shook his head, trying to ward off her hard stare.

"For cryin' out loud, Carter, the program isn't that important to me."

"Not important? Sir, you've got to be kidding. Earth can't survive without this program and you know it!" At this stage, her face started to get so red that Jack thought she might explode. She huffed loudly, shaking her head and stormed out of Jack's office, unable to control her temper or determination any longer. Jack jumped slightly at the sound of the door slamming.

"Geez," he murmured, shaking his head. "And I didn't even think she liked The Simpsons."


	2. Those Killer Eyes, Babe

**Train of Thought **

disclaimer: Sorry, don't own Stargate! I do own everything else in this story, though

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. Please take the time to send a review, even if it's only short. Reviews quicker updates!

**Part 2: Those killer eyes, babe**

Sam Carter checked her notes thoroughly before she made her way to the general's office. She knew he hated it when she wasn't succinct. If only he understood just how exciting her research was, or any of the words she actually said.

She chuckled to herself, thinking of their last encounter. She had been so excited about her new hypothesis on string theory and its relation to alternate universes that she couldn't help but to go into as much detail as humanly possible. She remembered the look on the general's face as she began to explain how the non-detectable strings that made up the universe were highly relevant to the symptoms of entropic cascade failure. She smiled. That particular look of the general's was most familiar to her. Almost any time she opened her mouth to talk about something work related, Jack O'Neill's face would go limp, his eyes unfocusing, his mouth turning slightly downward and his eyebrows, which were usually furrowed, would slacken, giving his face a very spaced-out appearance, one that Sam always took to mean that he was no longer listening.

She knew that face extraordinarily well, which was quite unfortunate, really. She could just imagine all the scientific leaps the SGC could make if their leader could actually understand all of the improvements that she was trying to make to it. Though, try as she may to imagine life with a more book-smart leader, she couldn't find it in her to imagine SGC life without General O'Neill. There was just no reason to fight without him there leading them. She smiled again. Perhaps it was all for the best that he was the way he was.

Completely sidetracked by thoughts of the general, Sam barely realised that she had made it all the way to his office. She rolled her eyes. After all that, she hadn't actually thought of a way to make her ideas simpler to understand. Oh well, the routine would have to go on as normal.

She went to knock on the door when she heard a voice. A singing voice. Sam stopped in her tracks and took her hand away from the door. The general was singing? Intrigued, Sam edged closer to the door, holding her ear up to it. Another fragmented melody washed through the door into her ear. Yes, there was no denying it – Jack O'Neill was singing.

Unable to tear herself away from the door, Sam continued to listen. Her CO's voice wafted through the closed doorway, muffling the sound that came through. She couldn't recognise the tune and couldn't quite make out any of the words. It didn't even really sound like a song. Just bits and pieces of melodies here and there.

What happened next surprised her even more. Through the closed door came the sound of a guitar being strummed lightly and quite poorly. Every now and then the general missed a string and the notes would clash. It made Sam smile. So the general had a hobby.

Far too curious to just sit at the door, Sam edged it open, hoping that the general wouldn't notice. She hazarded a guess that he didn't exactly want an audience. She poked an eye through the inch wide opening that she had created and watched as he tried and failed to play the song through. Every time the chords changed, he had to stop and bring the neck of the guitar closer to his face so that he could see which frets to move his fingers to. Once he had played the chords through a few times, he started to sing the melody over the top, stopping every now and then to remember the lyrics.

_If I die tomorrow, which I could,_

_You know I could, babe,_

_I'd paint the stars a crazy shade of blue_

_Just to match those eyes, those killer eyes_

_You know you hide, babe_

_So the world could finally know how I love you_

Sam couldn't help the grin that began to spread from one ear to the other. Jack O'Neill was full of surprises. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the gravelly, husky timbre wash around her ears. The melody was very amateurish, it didn't flow properly and only used four or five notes. She wondered vaguely if perhaps he'd written it himself. If she wasn't so fascinated by it, she may have told him not to give up his day job, but something about the poorly written song and his obviously untrained voice secretly thrilled her. She looked at him through the door as he started a new verse.

_After all these years, these lonely years_

_That we've been here, babe_

_We've never told each other how we feel_

_And although I can't describe why we should hide_

_What's here inside, babe,_

_You gotta understand that it's all real_

Sam's stomach began to tremor. This wasn't some song Jack had written by accident. It was a love song, to whom Sam didn't really know. But if she had to take a wild stab in the dark she would have guessed that it was for her.

"Ya know, Carter, some people don't like it much when you skulk around closed doors." Sam jumped, hitting her head on the door. It swung wide open, to reveal a very empty room, except one certain general sitting on his desk, facing the opposite wall with a guitar in his hand.

"How did you know I was here, sir?" Sam asked, not daring to enter.

"You kidding?" Jack asked, keeping his back to her. "You traipse around like an elephant, Colonel. Might want to fix that. It could get you into trouble some day."

Sam grinned, her face determinedly facing the floor. "How long have you known I was here?" she asked, hoping that he may have thought she'd only just got there.

"Long enough," he replied, spinning himself around to face her. "What can I do for you, Colonel?" he asked, putting his guitar down on his desk.

"Er.." Sam stuttered, having completely forgotten everything that didn't directly relate to Jack O'Neill and his slightly bad yet entrancing singing voice. She swallowed loudly. Was it getting hot in here?

Jack looked at the file she was holding in her hands and raised his eyebrows.

"Oh," she said, thoughts of rational life flooding back into her. "Right. It's a proposal for upgrades in the control room, sir," she said, without too much enthusiasm, "for more efficiency," she added, walking into the office to hand him the manila folder.

"That's it?" he asked, surprised and amused at the absence of techno babble.

"That's it, sir," she said, unable to make her tongue form the words that would begin a long-winded explanation.

"Sweet," he said, flipping through the diagrams. "Start whenever you like." He casually threw the folder to the other side of desk, where Sam quickly picked it up and brought it up to her chest. She smiled sheepishly, aware that she should be spouting some form of lecture at this point.

"So you've got no instructions, explanations, or any form of techno-crap at all?" he asked pointedly to the Colonel, who still looked as though she was a sheep about to be hit by on-coming traffic.

"No sir," she replied with a nod and promptly exited the room.

Jack shook his head and picked up his guitar. "Hey," he said to himself. "I should sing to her more often."


	3. Flip, Drip, Zip

please review!!!

**Flip, Drip, Zip**

"If you have any questions, feel free to approach me at any time."

Dr Daniel Jackson concluded his seminar with a brief salutation and smiled as his learned colleagues began to depart. He waited a few seconds for someone to approach, but when he realised every face in the room was pointed eagerly to the door, he began to repack his suitcase, disappointedly.

Every now and then he looked up, hoping someone would want a more in depth examination of the Minoan culture and their historical links to Atlantis, but it seemed no one was interested. With a sigh he clipped up his briefcase and stared at the whiteboard which was filled with Ancient symbols and translations. Why had no one asked to meet with him? They had all looked fascinated enough during the seminar.

"Hey Daniel," came a soft voice behind him. He turned around to see the other three members of SG-1, who had come to support him. Sam smiled warmly. "That was great," she said, touching him briefly on the arm.

"You know," said Daniel, "I think I disagree. No one stayed to ask questions."

"Perhaps your delivery was sufficiently succinct," Teal'c offered, bowing his head in compliment of the seminar.

"I don't know," Daniel replied, pushing his glasses up his nose. "What do you think, Jack?" he asked.

"It was…informative," Jack said. Even though Daniel knew that meant it had bored Jack to death, he took it as a compliment anyway. "Very informative," he added, causing Carter to smirk and shake her head.

"Thanks Jack," Daniel replied sarcastically. "Still," he continued, "I didn't even get to the Land of the Light and its connection to the Pegasus Galaxy. I'm sure I wasn't the only one in the room who thought of it!"

"I know I did," Jack jibed. Daniel rolled his eyes. "Seriously. People were nodding and taking notes. I could see their minds going from A to B. But no one asked! I don't get it!"

"Look," said Jack. "You're whole Minnow speech was long and the seminar was…interesting, so what does it matter that the nerds didn't stay for dessert?" he shrugged. Sam nodded encouragingly.

"Minnow?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah…fish," Jack replied with a smile.

"I know what a minnow is, Jack…" Daniel said tersely.

"Perhaps it was not your speech that deterred your audience," Teal'c interrupted cryptically.

"What? The room was too small? There were no snacks?" Daniel asked, not completely understanding Teal'c's suggestion.

"Too…open," Jack replied. This time Sam gave him a stern look. Jack merely grinned back. Daniel looked from one to the other, his eyes narrowed.

"I believe O'Neill is commenting on the unsuitability of your attire," Teal'c said.

"What?" Daniel asked, patting down his knitted vest. He had chosen the outfit particularly for this seminar. He had even gotten Sam to double check the combination before he got changed.

"My clothes are fine!" he argued, with a look at Sam for support. Sam gave a small smile, but it was certainly not one of support. It was an embarrassed, amused smile and Daniel did not like it one bit.

"Oh, yeah," Jack agreed. "The outfit is great! You just haven't got the flip, drip, zip thing down yet," he said.

Sam closed her eyes and bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

Daniel, finally comprehending, turned a vibrant shade of red and looked down at his pants. His trouser fly was completely undone and a large tuft of his shirt poked out, not to mention the considerable view of underpants. He zipped it up quickly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Daniel sulked at Jack who was stroking his chin to hide his amusement.

"Hey," he said defensively. "The speech was long. But the 'seminar' was interesting," he said with a hearty laugh and left the briefing room.


	4. Down and Up

A/N: I originally wrote this as a fragment of a prologue to a new story I'm working on. But I thought the rhythm worked well on its own, so here it is!

I might still use it in that story...we'll see

Enjoy! and please review

* * *

_…Down and up_

_Down and up…_

If there was a miracle cure for boredom, Jack wished it would hurry up and be discovered.

_…Down and up_

_Down and up…_

Even his yo-yo wasn't interesting him today.

_…Down and up_

_Rock the cradle_

_Walk the dog_

_Down and up…_

He'd take the cure even if it came in needle form. _That's_ how bored he was.

_…Down and up_

_Down and up…_

Although, that new doctor was even more cunning with those little sticks of death than old Doc Fraiser had ever been, wherever she was in that great waiting room in the sky.

_…Down and up…_

…and that was saying something.

_…Down and up_

_Down and up…_

"Unshceduled off-world activation!"

_…Down and…ah, crap!_


End file.
